<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Locked Away by Descended_from_Hufflepuffs</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23106760">Locked Away</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descended_from_Hufflepuffs/pseuds/Descended_from_Hufflepuffs'>Descended_from_Hufflepuffs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005), Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Detective Doctor, Gen, Timelord!Malcolm, Timelord!Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:48:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23106760</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Descended_from_Hufflepuffs/pseuds/Descended_from_Hufflepuffs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master needs to hide in plain sight. What better place to do that than Earth?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo &amp; Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright &amp; Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright &amp; JT Tarmel, Malcolm Bright &amp; Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright and Thirteenth Doctor, Thirteenth Doctor &amp; The Master</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hiding in Plain Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master needed a place to lie low. Even if his death had been almost unavoidable after his last meeting with The Doctor, he knew she’d still be looking. She never underestimated him, always a fun challenge.</p>
<p>Staying in space wouldn’t do any could. There were too many chances for crashes and if he was in a sparse enough area she could pick him out immediately. No, he’d need to go to a planet. One they’d never been on together if he wanted to be an idealist, which cut down his options by a surprising amount. And none of those options were appealing. Either dead planets or incredibly boring ones with little to no population and sickeningly pretty landscapes.</p>
<p>In the end, he decided to take a risk and touched down on Earth during a time he was certain The Doctor hadn’t been in and in America specifically to make extra sure. With his TARDIS cleverly disguised as a tree in the middle of the woods, he was able to work in peace and easily hacked into whatever databases and networks he would need. Luckily for him, he landed in an era when computers were fairly new; this would be even easier than creating Harold Saxon.</p>
<p>First, he needed a cover story. Someone who came from old money (he did have a large savings stash, especially when converted into US dollars), someone who had a good education (he was one of the smartest creatures in the universe), someone who...helped people (he had to stay undercover). It was easy enough to create an identity. He took the Whitly name from an old family in England that died out a few centuries ago and figured no one would go digging. Martin was a more calculated choice; it was close enough to his true name for him to feel comfortable with it but far enough that his old friend wouldn’t catch wind of it. </p>
<p>Within a few months, Martin Whitly had become a sensation in the human world. He was a great doctor, one who knew the old methods well and even invented better ones (hardly his fault they were so behind on medical research). </p>
<p>He even broke into the social world by courting Jessica Whitly. She was an interesting creature, a coat of proper manners covering up a firey spirit, one that would undoubtedly be more appreciated in other circles. But she rules her portion of society with an elegance he could only hope to match. Humanity’s social scene wasn’t a difficult one for him to understand but he had always been a bit awkward. But she never judged him for that. She covered the areas where he lacked and found his eccentricities charming. Ever since that afternoon they met in the park, she’s been leading him through this odd maze of being a human. She was special. He would spare her in the end, he decided.</p>
<p>But perhaps the best thing she ever did for him was give him a legacy. Not just one, but two brilliant children. Ainsley, more beautiful than she had any right to be and smart to boot, smarter than almost any human she’d come across. He would’ve been fine with just her, sweet thing that she was, just like her mother. But by some miracle, she’d given him an even greater gift: Malcolm. He could still remember when he heard that double-heartbeat on the sonogram….</p>
<p>He tampered with the machines all through her pregnancy; no one else could know. Goodness knows what they would do to him if they did. Malcolm was born, his son, his fellow timelord, his legacy. Malcolm’s childhood was filled with tales of Gallifrey and the big wide universe around them. They would spend hours looking at the stars while Martin told him just how special he was. “You’re a Time Lord, my boy. Two hearts to take you farther than the rest of the universe. A brain with better storage capacity than any other species. You are special, my boy. We’re the same.”</p>
<p>If only that could last.</p>
<p>He could only go so long among humanity without causing a little chaos. He only made his first kill because the fellow was rather annoying. But once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop. He was curious. How far could he go? How many could he kill? What could he get away with?</p>
<p>But Malcolm, so smart, so curious, threw a small wrench in his plans. He really should’ve predicted the chloroform would lose its effectiveness. John Watkins suggested a simple solution to his problem: get rid of the boy. But how could he do that? His boy had so much more to learn about his inheritance…. So he came up with a new plan: teach the boy to kill. Surely once he got a taste of it the problem would sort itself out. Of course he would. Malcolm was his boy.</p>
<p>But he forgot one detail: Malcolm was raised in the human world. Of course he saw value in their pathetic existence. “Why are you hurting her Dad? She’s scared! You’re scaring me!”</p>
<p>He told Watkins he would take care of Malcolm and left him to take care of the girl in the box. He took Malcolm for a walk, a very long one back to his TARDIS. He wouldn’t kill the boy, he needed his son too much for that. But the chameleon arch would make him forget everything, even if it would make him human. He would live and Martin could keep on doing his work. He would restore Malcolm’s memories eventually, when he was ready for them. But for now, they remained locked in the old trunk. Everything was under control.</p>
<p>If only it had stayed that way.</p>
<p>Malcolm’s memories came back in dreams. He remembered the girl in the box, the camping trip. He called the police on Martin. His father. The Master was taken away in handcuffs and put through one of the least rigorous legal systems in the universe, all because of a human boy.</p>
<p>But Malcolm would always be his boy, whether he remembered it or not.</p>
<p>We’re the same, my boy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Strange Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Doctor meets a new friend in a strange place. What new mysteries will unfold?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS and promptly tripped on the uneven sidewalk. “Bloody American public property. Not very nice to you’re taxpayers,” she muttered, righting herself as she got her bearings. Her new companion said he’d meet her here once he got off his shift, which was about 5 minutes ago so he should at least be nearby.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After waiting a few more minutes (or at least what felt like a few minutes) she decided to call him, see if he just got held up or something like that. When she dialed, the faint sound of a very familiar stock ringtone came from a nearby alley? “Oh, Damien….” She would never judge her companions but this one seemed to lack a self-care instinct. This wouldn’t be the first time she found him passed out somewhere.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She followed the sound, already gearing up for a ‘I know the universe is excited but sleep is more important’ speech her nose caught a whiff of blood. A lot of blood. Her eyes widened when she came across the puddle. The puddle of blood. The puddle of blood surrounded her very dead companion. “Oh…. Guess I can excuse you being late then. Not exactly your fault you died….” She just needed to keep talking to herself; no sense going mad when the deed’s already been done.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A quick scan from her sonic revealed no alien prescence. “Likely not a revenge on me then. Probably. Can’t think of any humans I’ve pissed off while we traveled. At least not any from the 21st century…. Probably. So, now what? Dead companion, probably not my fault. Been dead for a while, not sure how long, so I can’t just pop back into the TARDIS and check. Might accidentally prevent the whole thing, paradox, not good. What to do...Think!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s got nothing to go on except a dead body and a lot of blood, not very helpful. At least not with what she has at her disposal. Which means…. As many problems as she has with humanity’s police force, she might have to give them a call. “They’ve got forensics. Medical examiners. I like scientists,” she rationalized, shakily dialing the number.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor bit her pinky nail as uniformed officers milled about the scene. She was allowed inside the tape since she was the one that called it in and they had questions to ask her. She’d found the body a few minutes ago. Yes, she knew him; they were supposed to meet after work. No, she didn’t hear anything, got there after the kill. No, he hadn’t been acting strangely but to be honest they hadn’t known each other all that long and she’s not great with social cues so she might’ve missed something. No, she has no idea who might’ve done it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They left her alone after that. No one told her to leave so she didn’t. She watched the officers compare notes. She watched them mark what little evidence there was. She watched the ME look over the body to determine cause of death. The Doctor decided to take her relative invisibility to get a closer look, learn more about her friend’s fate. “Hello there,” she greeted. “What does it look like?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Edrisa Tanaka startled at the sudden greeting. She was used to being left alone on a crime scene unless a team member needed her help. “Uh, hi…. Can I help you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you. My name is Jane Smith; I’m the one who called about him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.” Edrisa nodded. “Uh, well, all that’s classified for now. You’ll have to wait for the official report to be released in a few days.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stiffened. “Why can’t you just tell me? He’s my friend, I think I have a right to know what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry but unless you’re a part of the investigation, I have to follow protocol.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Part of the investigation?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She was about to respond when newcomers arrived. A group of three, not uniformed, detectives by the looks of it. The one leading the pack was older and gave off an air of authority, definitely the one in charge. She’d need to talk to him if she wanted in. Behind him was his team, all younger but with the weight of experience in their eyes. Yeah, she could probably work with them. Most likely. Almost definitely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you have for us, Edrisa?” asked the man with a soldier’s walk. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Dr. Tanaka shot The Doctor a look before turning to the leader for advice. “This woman knew the victim and she called this in. Is it alright if she’s here for this?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi. I’m Lieutenant Arroyo with Major Crimes,” he greeted with a kind smile. “I understand you want to know what happened to your friend but as a civilian you shouldn’t be here right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As a civilian?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Good thing I’m not a civilian then.” She pulled out her psychic paper. “Inspector Jane Smith, Scotland Yard Murder Unit. Your superiors approved me coming over to help with your latest investigation. Having a bit of trouble with these murders it seems.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Lieutenant seemed skeptical. “I didn’t hear anything about that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I’m a bit early,” she bluffed. “I was supposed to be here tomorrow but my flight changed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He put a soft hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me back to the precinct while I confirm this? You guys got it from here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other detectives nodded and Edrisa started explaining the situation as The Doctor was pulled away. They were just outside the yellow tape when a newcomer arrived. “Gil? What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“According to Miss Smith here, we’ve been sanctioned help from Scotland Yard. I’m just going back to the precinct to confirm the story. Powell and Tarmel are talking to Dr. Tanaka right now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor gave the other man a onceover. There was something...odd about him. Something dark in those bright blue eyes. Something hidden, very hidden indeed. She kept watching him as he entered the crime scene, her mind asking questions her mouth couldn’t form. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor thanked every god she knew of that both the Chief of NYPD and the head of Murder in Scotland Yard owed her favors and knew better than to ask questions. Gil still seemed a bit suspicious seeing as no one had mentioned her coming over before but thankfully he didn’t ask questions. “My team will be back soon and we’ll brief you on the situation. Right now, it looks like we have a serial killer on our hands.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right. Serial killer. Damien’s killer.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Right. I got a bit of a briefing on the ride over here but I’ll need a refresher on the details.” For once, she was grateful no one expected her to know everything. “But before they get here, can you give me a bit of a briefing on the team? I don’t want to step on any toes while I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a look that implied he suspected she would step on quite a few toes whether she intended to or not. “The main one to watch out for there is Detective Tarmel. He doesn’t trust easily, especially when it comes to outsiders. You two probably won’t get on that well but so long as you do your job, he won’t complain. Detective Powell can be easier to work with but she’s not one to trust easy either. Bright will be more enthusiastic to have you on, he’s a sucker for an intellectual, but I don’t need you two going on tangents. We’re here to solve a case.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tarmel, Powell, and Bright. Tarmel and Powell must’ve been the two with him when they first got to the scene and she’d bet money the Bright was the one that showed up late. He didn’t get a title though; what was his role on the team. “I’ll do my best to stay on task but I am known for getting a bit...excited about a mystery. A lot of people complain about that. Probably why they sent me over.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gil looked like he wanted to say something but decided against it. He offered to get her some tea while they waited and she was alone in the conference room for a bit. She snooped around and soniced a few things, nothing of interest really; it was an office environment after all. Unsurprisingly, she got bored and when the team returned a few minutes later, she was laying on the table counting the cracks in the ceiling. “There are 22 cracks in this ceiling. Most of them are small though so there’s not much chance of it crashing down on us. I’d get it checked out soon though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sighed and waved everyone in. “Team, this is Detective Jane Smith. Apparently our bosses aren’t happy with the speed of this case and have called in some extra help.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She got down from the table and held out her hand in greeting. “Hey there! Happy to help. I’ve got quite a bit of forensics background but I’m more of a tech person. Also dabbled in non-violent combat so don’t worry about keeping me out of trouble!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Non-violent</span>
  </em>
  <span> combat?” JT eyes her skeptically. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I know it’s a bit paradoxical but it works.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Anyway</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Gil cut in. “Let’s look at what we’ve got.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Five murders, all random people in random places with no connection between any of it except the method. “It looks worse than it actually is,” The Doctor commented. “There’s always a lot of blood, but the cuts are never that bad; it’s the blood loss.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The killer likes to watch it happen,” Malcolm noted. “We’ve found bruises on the wrists and ankles, so the victims were stuck in their positions for quite some time and forced to just sit there while they bled out. It’s about watching the show, the satisfaction of watching the life drain out of another living being.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, his cuts are deeper on the last victim. It was a quicker death, not as satisfying. And he didn’t wait as long between deaths. He knows we’re onto him and it’s forcing him to move quicker.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Which means he’ll need to make another kill soon,” Dani cut in. “There’s got to be some sort of connection between either the victims or the places, otherwise there’s pretty much no way of getting ahead of him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not quite.” Malcolm started pacing. “The location seems random, ‘seems’ being the key word. But it’s about the show. It’s all been staged. Even if the victims are randomly selected, the locations are less so. They don’t have anything in common but-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, they do.” The Doctor cut in, looking away from the whiteboard. She was greeted with a room of surprised faces. Who interrupted Malcolm, especially with something he apparently hadn’t caught yet?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop looking at me like that. Now, on the surface there’s not much there. Except: they’re all in busy places, not far from public eye. The killer wanted these bodies to be found. Beyond that, all the victims have been minimum wage workers. Not much of a connection I know but there might be something there.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Could be a class issue. He doesn’t deem these workers as valuable; they’re disposable as his playthings,” Malcolm murmured. “And he doesn’t want to hide it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that tells us his motivation but not his next move,” Gil pointed out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not necessarily.” Malcolm started pacing again. “The bodies are never found far from the places these people worked, two blocks over at the most. If we can find some sort of pattern to his hits, maybe businesses or at least type of service, we might be headed somewhere. In the meantime, I recommend we look into stage production workers. Like Jane said, it’s set up worse than it is. That takes experience.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, JT you get on that. Dani, you go back around to some of the business our victims worked at and see if they noticed any strange characters hanging around at the time,” Gil ordered. “Bright, why don’t you head home until we can get a suspect list together? We’ll call you when we’re ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And what should I do?” The Doctor inquired. “File some papers? Make coffee? Something else that happens around here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually,” Malcolm cut in, “I wanted to talk to you. Do you want to go grab some coffee while we wait?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if I’m not gonna be needed around here-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not. Go. Have fun. Come back when we call.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Looking a bit put out, the Doctor nodded and followed Malcolm out of the precinct. “What did you want to talk about exactly? I can talk about all sorts of things. Spend a lot of time talking to myself and that’s not just because I’m by myself a lot though I definitely am by myself a lot-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Inspector Smith,” he cut her off, leading her into a small coffee house. “I just have a few questions. It’s mostly for my own curiosity. Besides, we have time to kill.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They placed their orders and waited at a small corner table. “So, Inspector Smith. I don’t mean to seem rude but what exactly are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You say you were sent over by Scotland Yard, which is strange enough in itself since there are plenty of well-trained detectives in New York City, New York State, not to mention the FBI and other state police departments. Why would they hop all the way to Europe for help on a simple, low-threat serial killer? Secondly, you were the one who called the murder in. You called it in as a civilian and a friend of the victim, not as a detective who recognized a killer they were investigating. The police on the scene weren’t even aware of it from what I heard. Why is that?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor really was not used to people questioning her credentials. “Well...I was really distressed by the death of my friend and I just didn’t think to mention it. Well, until the time came of course. And how should I know why your bosses called for me? Maybe it was my bosses that called to get rid of me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm studied her and she returned the favor, neither being particularly subtle about it, both trying to puzzle out what the other was hiding. They barely paid attention to their coffees and pastries when they arrived.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their puzzling would have to wait for a bit as Malcolm got a call from Gil not long after. “Seems they’ve narrowed down a list of suspects.” He paid the check and stood, waiting for her to follow. “I don’t know why you’re lying, but I will catch the person who killed your friend. And, even if you aren’t actually a detective, you do seem capable of being one so I won’t blow your secret. But I do have more questions for later.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s alright. I have plenty of questions for you and those sad eyes of yours too. We can take turns, like a party game!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <span>If she hadn’t dashed out before him, she would’ve seen the puzzled look that followed her all the way to the station. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The game is on, Inspector Jane Smith.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Joker to your Batman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A fateful meeting sets a new path in motion.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Malcolm and the Doctor worked their way through their suspect list and managed to narrow it down to five names. All of them seemed to fit the profile perfectly  and Malcolm was still pacing an hour after they’d gotten that far. “There’s something I’m missing….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor joined him in pacing. She was just as stumped, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “Is there someone else we can talk to? Maybe a missed friend of a victim?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm bit his lip and looked to Gil for approval. “There is another...person we could consult. He’s been helpful to me in the past….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we should go talk to him then. Maybe he’ll see something we don’t!” The Doctor almost vibrated with energy. She would beg the Master for help if that’s what it took to catch her companion’s killer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Somehow that always manages to happen," Gil mumbled. "Go if you need to, kid. We'll keep working on leads here."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Right, let's go!" The Doctor grabbed her coat and headed for the door, oblivious to the stares from the team.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Malcolm gently grabbed her arm. "The person I need to see will only talk to me and I doubt you'd want to meet him anyway."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, I'll be alright. People like talking to me; I've got one of those faces. And if you're worried about him scaring me, I've faced some scary blokes, likely way scarier than him."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I really don't think-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"She's as stubborn as you, Malcolm," Gil cut in. "She's probably already planning to follow you as soon as you walk out. May as well take her with you."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. "Yeah and maybe I also know what I'm doing for the most part and could be helpful in dealing with this person we're going to meet. Who is he anyway?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"My father."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oddly enough, this isn't the first time I've had to go through security checks to meet someone's parent. Also oddly enough, it's the least rigorous check I've been through." They didn't even pick up on her sonic!</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"....Right." Malcolm gave her an odd look and decided not to continue that line of conversation. "Look, about my father-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yes, yes dangerous charismatic serial killer. Trust me, I've seen worse. Much worse." Like a madman genetically engineering a killing race. Or a madman determined to turn humanity into robots. Or a madman destroying their home for reasons beyond their control. She ran into an awful lot of madmen….</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm looked like he was about to ask about that but was distracted by Mr. David opening the cell. "Detective Jane Smith, this is Doctor Martin Whitly. The Surgeon."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Well...isn't this a nice surprise?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Master could hardly believe his luck! His son and his old frenemy in the same room with him! Oh, if only he could give Malcolm a proper introduction… He’d settle for making things very confusing for now. “Malcolm, my boy, you didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Last minute addition. She’s from Scotland Yard; apparently we needed her help with this case.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? The great Jane Smith of Scotland Yard couldn’t figure it out? I must admit, I’m flattered that you think I have more to add.” He chuckled and shook his head, very much enjoying the way her face soured at his comment. “So, Detective Smith, are you enjoying your time in New York?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Be enjoying it more if I weren’t investigating a murder.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s your angle? You never get involved unless you have to, unless there’s a just cause. You hate police. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I’m sorry to hear that. I suppose the lure of a mystery isn’t enough to cover that up, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dr. Whitly,” Malcolm started. “We’ve got our suspect narrowed down to a few choices but it seems we’ve hit a wall. Do you think you could help?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But of course. Let’s set up at my desk, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, The Doctor stepped over the red line with the files in hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>So reckless. What would you do without someone to hold you back…? </span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Oh, I like this one. Very bold,” he complimented. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So’s murdering over two dozen people,” she snapped. “Can we focus a bit? Lives are at stake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course. Now, where were we….?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor couldn’t shake this feeling. There was just something so...familiar about this Dr. Whitly. And not the friendly kind of familiar. This was the very unsettling familiar that gives you a deep sense of dread in the most sensitive part of your stomach. The way he spun his words, his effect on Malcolm, that knowing look he kept giving her…. It fit too well together and she didn’t like it, not one bit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She had to give him some credit for pointing out semi-obvious clues that they missed earlier. It got them down to two suspects at least and Malcolm had a hunch about one of them. Aaron Tucker, a middle-aged man who frequented the establishments that had been hit by the murders. The employees had recounted several instances of him being displeased with their service in some way. While he stepped out to update Gil, she stayed back to figure out their helper. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem familiar to me, Dr. Whitly. Which is odd, since I’ve never met you and I never forget a face.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, well, faces aren’t always the best way to remember someone. More often than not, we remember actions,” he reasoned. “I hope the familiarity is flattering.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not particularly.” She got one of his journals, flipping through the intricate drawings. “Malcolm told me a bit about you; seems you lost out in the father department.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He’s my son; our relationship is special. We’re the same, you see.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The same?” she chuckled. “Is that why he entered law enforcement to stop people like you? Because you’re so similar?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He huffed in annoyance. “Well, not every child has the same ambitions of their parents. At least not on the surface. Sometimes, that part of them is just...buried. All you have to do is dig it up.” He tapped his fingers against his desk to fill the silence, a very familiar rhythm that sent chills down her spine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The heartbeat of a Timelord, a beacon in the night….</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her reaction was immediate. Her spine stiffened and the journal shook slightly in her hands. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Little tells, no need to panic just yet….</span>
  </em>
  <span>“What I think is most interesting about child development,” he continued, “is the effect their environment will have on them. It doesn’t matter what their lineage says, their world shapes them so much. I mean, an alien could have a child here and ultimately that child would end up being more human than their parent could ever hope to be.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That got her gears turning. She shut the book and rather rudely shoved it on the bookshelf at random. “Interesting analogy, Dr. Whitly. Why did you jump to ‘alien’ though? There are plenty of immigrants on earth who could relate to the idea I’m sure.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, well, personal experience will always stick in one’s mind. You know how it is, Detective….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It can’t be.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s dead.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She never did check up on that, did she? Just hopped off to the next adventure and tried to forget about it. Forget about killing the last of her kind. Her former friend. She was taken out of her thoughts when he started laughing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That smile</span>
  </em>
  <span>…..</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t matter what face it was on, she would always recognize that smile. The smile of a madman with a dastardly plan that he carried out while pulling the wool over her eyes. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh….”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that was my name last time dear. Call me Martin.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is everything alright?” Malcolm cut in as he reentered the world. “Detective Smith, the team is closing in on Tucker. We’ll need to meet up with-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“OH!” Her eyes jumped between the two of them. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you mean by that! It’s the genetics! He’s one too, isn’t he? You...the chameleon arch, </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>! That’s where the eyes come from! All those hidden memories he doesn’t even know about, it’d cloud anyone’s vision!” She was sure she seemed mad but she was quite used to that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She focused on Martin. “I swear…. Of course. You couldn’t keep being nice to them. Advance the medical field some and then start killing them off, a perfect balance for you. Save a few lives, end a few, everyone wins!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Detective Smith, what’s going on?” Oh, he sounded so concerned, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>human….</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t even have an inkling that he wasn’t. Should she really tell him? Give The Master the satisfaction? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. Not here at least.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go catch a killer!” She sprinted out of the cell before he could ask any more questions. There were too many thoughts in her head for her to be able to answer anything properly. She needed to focus. Catch the killer, get back to the TARDIS to regroup, then think about it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Malcolm Bright...I miss you being a mystery….</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. You're a Timelord, Malcolm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>New information hits Malcolm with the force of seven large trucks.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! This one's a bit longer than the others and it really got away from my original plan but I'm kinda happy with it. I hope you like it as much s I do!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They caught the killer. Tucker confessed and the team was just finishing up their final paperwork. Well, Dani and JT were. Malcolm had already finished and Jane Smith was still staring at a blank piece of paper.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He set down a paper cup of Early Grey on the conference table where she was working. "Everything okay? You seem a little shaken up."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm fine," she snapped. "Just dealing with the senseless death of a friend."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, right. The most recent victim. "Damien, right? I'm sorry…."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed and drank her tea, finally starting on her paperwork. "Life and death happen everyday. Part of being human, eh?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That doesn't make it easier to deal with though, does it?” He understood that well enough, with 23 names on his conscience.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged noncommittally and kept writing. After a few moments of silence he decided to speak up again. “When we were in my father’s cell-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop.” She slammed the end of her pen into the table so hard it stood upright when she let go. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t ask. I don’t want to answer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, if that didn’t set off several alarm bells in his head. “Alright, alright....” He held up his hands in surrender and slowly left the room. Softly closing the door behind him, he went to Gil’s office. “You got a second?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. What’s up, kid?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did anything seem...off about Detective Smith’s assignment here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sat up and shrugged. “Other than no one being aware of it until she showed up yet somehow magically everything was set in place weeks ago? No. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When we were visiting Dr. Whitly, something happened. First, she stepped right over the red line and set up at his desk like that was a completely normal thing to do. Then, whenI came back from giving you an update...she seemed scared. They were talking like they knew each other. Something about genetics and why my father says that we’re ‘the same’. I tried to ask about it then and she just brushed it off and just now she put a new hole in the table over it. She didn’t even deny she was hiding something from me; she said she didn’t want to tell me. What does she know? Why does she know whatever it is? Why isn’t she telling me?” He was pacing now, hands gesturing wildly. “I’m honestly not even completely sure she’s a detective with how quickly everything happened. Is that crazy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” Gil had his own suspicions about their new companion. “But, the case is solved. Once she turns in her report she’ll leave here. I know I’m not going to stop you from whatever you think you need to do but you need to be careful. If she knows Dr. Whitly, we could be looking at trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re always looking at trouble, Gil. That's what we do." He did have an idea though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm waited until the end of the day and caught her as she was leaving. "Hey. I know things got intense back there but I was hoping we could still talk?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"About what?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Earlier you said you had questions for me and you seemed very excited about it. I know I still have questions. Let's get dinner; I'll buy."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "I should really be going. Boss is expecting me back and all that." She started walking faster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I think we both know you don't have a boss. And that you're avoiding telling me something."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"For a good reason." She was now going at a light jog.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Could you at least tell me the reason?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No." And now she was running. She zigged and zagged and took alleys he'd never seen before. Eventually, he lost her, quietly cursing to himself while he caught his breath. He heard a distant grinding noise that seemed familiar somehow but he couldn't quite pin why.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now what?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>----------------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor let out a sigh of relief once they were safely beyond Earth's atmosphere. "There. I'm gone. Malcolm will never know. The Master is in prison. Everything's fine."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Except it wasn't and the TARDIS knew that since her navigation refused to pull up non-Earth coordinates. "What? I know it's not my best plan but what am I supposed to do? If I tell him what he is, he'll go searching for answers and he'll never get the peaceful </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> life he should have. And if I get the Master out he'll just escape me again. Then again, leaving them both behind could be dangerous too because Malcolm will just keep searching for answers regardless and the Master could probably escape anyway and I'd never know…." Why was doing the right thing always so hard?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After some more insistent beeping, she let the TARDIS take her back. “I’m just going to try to explain it to Malcolm. Maybe if I tell him why it’s a bad idea to chase his timelord self, he’ll stay away from it. Might not be bad to check up on the Master. Make sure he stays where he is for a while…..”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t expect to be landing in Malcolm’s living room and neither did he if the way he choked on his water was anything to go by. “What the-?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Put the water down because this is just going to get more confusing. Now, get in the box; we need to go talk to your father.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No. No, first you're going to explain to me exactly what is happening!" He had a feral look in his eye. "First you show up at a crime scene and claim to be a detective sent to help us even though we hadn't heard anything about it, then you talk to my dad like you know him even though you're too young to, and then you just straight up disappear and reappear in my apartment in a blue box?! Who are you and what is happening???"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was lucky she liked an inquisitive mind. “Sorry, I'm the Doctor. I’ll explain on the way. Now, get in the box!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Not until you tell me why we need to see my father.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“To make sure he’s still there, obviously!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...Why wouldn’t he be there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She groaned and smacked her face against the doorway of her TARDIS. “...Okay I’ll just tell you everything now so you can process it on the way there.” She stepped out and paced about in his front room while she tried to find the right words. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you were right. I’m not a detective, I’m an alien. I come from the planet Gallifrey and I travel around the Universe in my ship. A long time ago, I had a friend. A best friend. We...took different paths: I explored, he destroyed. The last time I saw him, I tried to help him. I failed. I failed and I thought he died.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“But he didn’t. Somehow, he survived and made it to a new planet. He made a life for himself. Got a job, started a family, did well for himself. Then he started killing people and he got tossed in a mental institute. And now I think he might be planning an escape. Or maybe we have to break him out. I don't know yet. What am I saying?!" She took a steadying breath and turned to her bewildered companion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Simply put: your father is an alien and, through a miracle in genetics, you are too. Well, sort of. I think he made you human before he was arrested. Maybe you saw something and he wanted you to forget or-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I did see something,” he interrupted shakily. “There was a girl. One of his victims. I saw her...then the camping trip...and then I called the police.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But he tried to stop you before then." It was all clicking. "There's a machine that can remove a Timelord's memory and turn them into a human for a while. The memories can still leak through in dreams but-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop. Hold on.” Malcolm ran his fingers through his hair, practically shaking with nervous energy. “My father is a TimePerson-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Timelord.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Timelord. Somehow, I am too except I’m not because of a machine he used to wipe my memory and also change my genetic makeup to turn me into a human. And that’s just the life I’ve been living for the past twenty years?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “Pretty much. I know it’s a lot to take in but-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop. Just...gimme a second.” He sat on the couch and rubbed his temples. "My father...you two were friends."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"A long time ago, yes. Now, not so much. Feels like we're going to kill each other one day…."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What happened to him? Why is he like this? You've known him for longer than I have. Why would he kill 23 people?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She huffed and sat next to him. "Where should I start? The drums? The Academy? The Timelord leaders using him to save their own skin? Me abandoning him? Being the timeless child?" As much as she detested him for what he's done, she can hardly blame him for being so angry. "He's a dangerous man with nothing to lose. Well, almost nothing." Just a few minutes in his cell was enough to see his affection for his son. "I think he always intended to give you your memories back. But then you called the police and he's the only one who knows where they are…."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What do you mean, 'where they are'? Wouldn't they be stored in that machine?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No. The chameleon arch is used as a last resort and it removes their memory so completely that no Timelord could remember them except in dreams. If the memories were in the machine, no one would ever get them back. They're always transferred to another object, something kept with their human identity, easy to access. Even if it was in the machine, that would be in his ship, which I’m assuming only he knows where that is too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm stayed silent, which wasn't surprising given the information she'd just dumped on him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Look, I know this is a lot. But right now we need to go see your father and make sure he hasn't gone anywhere. Come on, into the blue box." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If you were to ask Malcolm why he just followed this strange woman into the blue box that had materialized in his apartment, he wouldn’t be able to give you much of an answer. Well, a more accurate statement would be that he had a lot of answers to give you but they were all of the same levels of importance so he didn’t know where to start.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The simplest reason would be that he just needed answers. Who was this woman? Who was his father? Who was he? What happened on that camping trip? Did Watkins know?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was so distracted by his questions, he barely even registered that the box he just stepped inside was much, much bigger than it should’ve been. Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely</span>
  </em>
  <span> made it past his visual filters. “...It…. It’s bigger on the inside?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Good work; very observant.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How? How does that work? How do you even fly this thing?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a long explanation that we don’t really have time for. Now, hold on to something!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She pressed a few buttons at what seemed like random and the ship jerked suddenly, sending Malcolm sprawling on the floor. He managed to stumble back to his feet and grasped at the center console like his life depended on it. Some of this seemed familiar, but he couldn’t piece together why. Once again, it seemed the answers laid with his father. Maybe this time, he could actually get some.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity of unstable movement through space, it seemed that they landed. Well, he was pretty sure they’d landed. The room had stopped spinning at least. “Are we there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep! About an hour later than I wanted to be here but hopefully that didn’t make much of a difference….”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Had they really been flying for that long? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not the point!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He followed her out and stepped right into his father’s cell….</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, my boy. I see you made a new friend.” Somehow his smile was more disturbing than usual. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you wipe my memory?” Best to get started right off the bat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Malcolm. Where on earth did you get an idea like that? Now, I support you in making new friends but you have to be careful who you trust. Not everyone has your best interests in mind.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And you do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, of course. You are my son, after all. What kind of father would I be if I didn't?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Most people would say being a serial killer would disqualify you from any title in the realm of 'Good Dad'."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He had the gall to look offended. "Malcolm, I did not wipe your memory. I simply moved them somewhere else. I was trying to protect you.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Watkins had misinterpreted my intentions on taking you on our trip. He thought I meant to kill you but I only wanted to teach you. Bring you into the family business. Unfortunately, I had underestimated how growing up among humans would shape your view of them and it was impossible to convince you to kill the girl. So I told Watkins I would handle you while he disposed of the body."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"So you 'moved' my memories with a machine in your ship. Is it like hers? Am I going to start seeing a blue box in my dreams?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Martin scoffed. "As if. No, my chameleon chip actually works. It looks like a tree, virtually indistinguishable from any other tree in the forest unless you know what you're looking for."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"And what about my memories? Where are they?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Now why would I tell you that? Assuming you did go and find them, that just means you'll be running off and exploring the stars without me with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> to guide you. What's in it for me?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That's what it always is, isn't it?" The Doctor snapped. "What do you get out of it? What </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> you get out of it is a better question. And the answer is nothing. You made your mistakes and now you're here to oay the price!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Master laughed uproariously. "Come now, Doctor. It's not as if I stay here because I want to!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm's eyes flitted between both of them. "What does he mean, Doctor?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"He means he could've escaped years ago," she growled. "Security here is pretty lax and a little perception filter would fool anyone on the streets. He'd be in his TARDIS in a day, maybe less."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Perception filter?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Not the time, son." He stood up from his chair and Malcolm finally noticed he was untethered. "But she's right. I could've left this planet with you any time I wanted. But I needed time away from her so I stayed here to lay low. Now that she knows I'm here, what's the point? I can just run somewhere else, keep up our little game of cat and mouse across the universe."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"So is that your plan now? Escape and take my answers with you? Bribe me into coming along in your spaceship?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Something like that, yes."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm chuckled. "That's awfully idealistic for you. I highly doubt-" Any comment he was going to make was promptly cut off by Mr. David whacking him upside the head with a heavy journal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Thank you Mr. David." He smiled and knocked The Doctor out with his sonic screwdriver. "There, that should do it. Grab the boy, would you? We'll make use of my friend's ship; much easier than walking…."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>